


a promise of resurrection

by caesarions



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Acceptance, Character Development, Established Relationship, Family Bonding, M/M, Politics, Protective Siblings, and flagrant misuse of wind magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 23:56:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17908139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caesarions/pseuds/caesarions
Summary: Soren may be a tactician, but he did not think that Mist would discover his relationship with Ike before they were ready to share. Since he thought wrong, Mist comes looking.sequel toto share a life, but it can be read alone.





	a promise of resurrection

**Author's Note:**

> my thoughts on mist vary. i still think a woman being the keeper of everything good in the world is an overused trope, but it's not like mist wrote herself. kind and helpful female characters aren't boring themselves just because i wish there was more variety. i think that makes her an even better candidate for being soren's friend and helping him to open up to other people than ike. also something about reliving the childhood that he never got.
> 
> i was surprised that not a lot of people have written about her and soren, or at least her commenting on ike's relationship, since she's described as determined to keep ike close and happy. so, i hope i filled a void. what can i say? i love found family. and apparently i'm also determined to fill the void between the two games, since i keep writing about it.
> 
> anyway, please enjoy!

Using a whip of wind conjured from his tome, Soren knocked down another book. Castle Crimea’s library shelves reached the very top of the vaulted ceilings. Aged cream pages fluttering open, the book began to tumble towards the earth like a wounded sparrow.

“Eek!”

As someone carelessly rounded the corner, Soren used another burst of wind magic. The book took a hard left until the spine smashed against his palm. Better than a face, since it was familiar—not that he cared for every familiar face.

“Mist!” Soren covered the sudden beating of his heart by adding the book to the stack in his arms. “What in Ashera’s name are you doing here?”

He blinked as Mist began to unfurl herself from her arms shielded about her head. When she stood straight, her bright smile ignored the fact that she had come close to death. Soren did it alone all the time, but that was different. “Looking for you, of course!”

“That statement is not self-explanatory,” Soren huffed.

“Yeah, it is.” Mist placed her hands on her hips. “Where else would you be but the library?”

He squirmed in place, the stack of books wobbling as he did so. “...Many other places,” he played at defense.

“Maybe with Ike, but he’s in a meeting right now.” Picturing Ike dozing off as the nobles fought tooth and nail over property taxes was almost enough to soothe Soren’s nerves.

Though Mist shrugged innocently, he had never felt so seen before. Soren had ears, and therefore had heard everyone and anyone referring to him as the boy always at Ike’s side. Since he lived for Ike, he did not mind being referred to in terms of Ike.

For some foolish reason, he had hoped that his glassy exterior clouded for Ike’s family.

“Well, you have found me.” His shoulders sagged as the books became the weight of the world. “You have need of me?”

“I just wanted to talk to you,” Mist explained. Her sparkling eyes—lighter than Ike’s, but keeping the same excitement for life—goaded Soren into agreeing when he would otherwise say no.

He leaned against the oaken shelves and sighed. “Then, speak.”

“What are your intentions with my brother?”

In a few cursed seconds, Soren began to stammer uncontrollably as his arms jerked. With the nervous energy pounding at his skull, he tried to put a hand over Mist’s mouth. The action toppled his fortress of books over, including his tome.

“Don’t say things like that here!”

“Where?” Mist had already wrenched free of his hand with surprising strength. She squinted at Soren suspiciously before turning her attention to the mess of open covers like broken wings on the floor. “I’ll help you with those.”

Soren kneeled at the same time and glared daggers at her. “Anywhere! But especially in public.”

“There’s no one else here,” Mist shrugged, unperturbed. “But I guess there could be eventually.”

As she began to organize the books on the floor, Soren’s glare melted into a bewildered stare. He combed his fingers through his hair before helping Mist with the mess that he made.

With a child’s aplomb, she lifted his tome into the air by its spine. A singular poppy fell from a deep crevice, where it had been pressed between pages as strong as a soldier’s arms.

Soren went red.

“Oh!” Mist pronounced pleasantly. Using her fingernails like tweezers, she picked up the brittle blossom. Though withered and without nutrient, the poppy kept all of its initial brilliance, the sanguine shining against the dull library. “You kept the first flower I gave you?”

Multiple thoughts sprang into Soren’s head at once and battled for dominance in the. _First_ , because others had come after, without knowing or caring if Soren kept the blossoms. Of course he did. His tome only protected the poppy, but the rest were carefully pressed in his other eclectic books kept in the bedchambers that he no longer slept in.

For that, Mist did deserve an explanation.

Instead of anything constructive, Soren simply answered, “Yes.”

“Ha! That’s unlike you, Soren.”

She had separated the fallen books into two equal towers and returned the poppy to its rightful place. As she lifted one, Soren sat on the floor with a hot flush of shame. What action had she anticipated of Soren, for him to behead the flowers and break the stems in front of her?

 _It is what everyone expects of you,_ the feral child from the woods whispered.

Mist grunting and groaning as she tucked her stack under her chin brought Soren back to the present. The oaken shelves were the closest things to the great forests of Gallia. After an acerbic swallow, he quickly rose and joined her in the chore.

Quickly overtaking Mist, he led her to a battered desk in the corner, nestled between the hard cobblestone. He had discovered the old thing on his first trip to Castle Crimea with the other mercenary group. No one but Soren seemed to remember it, since the shadows of the looming bookshelves swallowed it whole.

Since his books would be untouched at his return, he placed his stack on its surface and indicated for Mist to do the same. Her face puffed sanguine by the time that she was done.

“I could have carried them all myself,” Soren said before remembering himself. He kept his tome and pressed it to his chest. “...But thank you.”

“Not a problem! Especially since you owe me now.” After collecting her shallow breaths, Mist stuck her tongue out.

The corner of Soren’s lips twitched up, though not unpleasantly. “A transaction, was it?”

“Yes! You said we can’t talk here,” Mist continued, “so you have to show me somewhere we can talk.”

“Come along, then,” the mage sighed and resigned himself to his fate. He could find excuses on campaign, full of rolling fields and forests, but no palace could ever be big enough to shield him from Mist’s burning determination.

Without another word, he led Mist across the library and down the hall. For midday, the torches stood in a silent watch overhead. The only sound was Mist humming the same tune that she always did, as surprisingly warm and familiar as Ike’s old cloak.

Though the Gardens were outdoors, they invited more privacy than the library. The vivacious foliage shielded visages and absorbed conversation, while the unfeeling walls permitted traitorous words to echo. Plus, any damage from their clash with the Mad King had finally been fixed.

Soren stepped into the golden sun and immediately shielded his eyes with his tome. He crossed the stone platform where Ashnard once stood with feverish strides.

“You said something about me and your brother?” He formulated it as a question despite knowing the answer. If Soren were the one to voice the truth, it would shatter the gentle truce that allowed him to share Ike’s bed.

They immediately diverted from the main cobblestone path and onto one lined by ostentatious hedges that caused dark, jagged shadows to cut upon their skin. For all of her childish foolery, Mist still looked around before speaking. If anyone was listening, the birdsong outweighed their whispering. “He said something about becoming mercenaries again to me and Titania.”

“Anyone else?”

She shook her head.

“Well, I did not plant the idea in his head.” Soren did not have to. While he longed to return to their lopsided stone buildings and scratchy bunks more than anything, Ike did, too. Ike’s veins bulged with every interaction that was not solely with Elincia and her retainers. “If that is why you are upset with me.”

“Who said I was upset with you?” Stopping, Mist placed her hands on her hips. She looked up at Soren with furrowed brows.

“I merely assumed,” Soren said, squaring his shoulders, “since you would not want to leave Melior.”

Now, Mist threw her hands into the air. “Who said I was upset with leaving palace life behind?”

The worthless, lifeless toddler from Soren’s youth did. “No one.” Ike’s estimation had only included Shinon and Gatrie acting as contrarians—as always. Soren had only included Mist because, despite her simplicity and similarity to her brother, she was unreadable to him in some areas.

“Good, because I wouldn’t be. I told Ike as much.” As her outburst caught up with her, Mist folded her arms sheepishly. Perhaps she blushed, but they were still in the eclipse of the hedges. “Actually, I feel really useless here.”

“How so?” Soren’s eyebrows raised, as if he had any right to be surprised, as if he knew anything of Mist.

“I was fine when Oscar took over the cooking, I really was. I didn’t want to make anyone sick.” The wind picked up as Mist explained, shaking even the sentinel bushes. “I could still sew— Well, I could still do laundry. Clean. I could still do _something_.”

Words of comfort avoided his tongue as the dragons did the rest of the continent. A likely possibility was Soren making it worse. He acted mute, a familiar feeling.

Mist seemed more than prepared to fill the silence. “But here, I can’t do any of that, even if I wanted to. They have an army of servants that are all better at it than me.”

“...You can heal,” the mage finally felt comfortable enough to add.

“The castle has better healers, too. A whole hospital,” she answered with a wry smile. “It has plants and staves I haven’t even heard of.”

Soren drummed his fingers on his tome, as if it could help him here. “Ike excels at fighting. Even though that’s not what he’s doing now, he doesn’t feel… Well.”

 _Stupid_ , _stupid_ , _stupid_! If Ike did not dislike his current position and purpose, they would not even be having this conversation.

“It’s okay, Soren.” His face must have pulled quite the grimace for Mist to notice. How much had she noticed of him? “But if Ike can’t handle it, then there’s no hope for me.”

 _There’s no hope for anyone_ , Soren mused morosely.

“But that’s why I don’t mind leaving!” she continued. “I love doing my share. Elincia and Lucia have lots of work, but I can’t think of what other noble girls my age are doing.”

Perhaps he could try a different approach. Both corners of Soren’s lips twitched up this time. “Betrothals and tea parties. Tea parties to get betrothed.”

Mist’s aquamarine eyes went wide. Then, they closed as peals of laughter bubbled up from her throat.

“You’re funny, Soren!”

“Mm.” Then, the foliage hid his own flush as they began to walk forward. They gravitated towards an offshoot with lighter plantlife. “I assume that lifestyle does not appeal to you?”

“Maybe if the parties were just with my family, but I know they’re not,” the girl shrugged. “For now, I go wherever Ike and Titania and you go.”

At the last second, Soren stumbled.

Mist’s porcelain hand shot out to hold Soren upright by his sleeve. “Are you alright?”

“Just tripped on the new stone,” Soren let slip through gritted teeth. It had not changed between paths.

Only the scenery had. Spindly trees hugged this path, their branches holding hands and equally as thin to let in a puzzle of honeyed patches of light.

One such piece landed over Mist’s eye. As the brilliant blue bore into Soren’s soul, he stopped and did a heel turn. “...You know, Mist. You should not think yourself useless.”

“Why? Just because I saved you from yourself once?” The girl stuck out her tongue.

“No.” Although that might not be far from the truth—close enough to cause Soren to gulp. “You have your uses.”

Mist tilted her head oddly, bringing another dance of sunshine across her face. “Gee, thanks, Soren. That’s what people say when something really old comes in handy at least once in their lives.”

“Yes— I mean, no.” He scratched for purchase on the leather cover of his tome. “I mean, you are agreeable. Friendly. Imagine if all of the mercenaries were like Shinon. We would fall apart.”

Soren swallowed bile whenever they agreed on something, usually an unwillingness to help because of a belief in the inherent evil of people. But if Shinon could help Rolf, then perhaps even Soren could change.

“Well, what would I disagree with my brother on? Except for wanting everyone to fight less.”

“Exactly.” The mage blinked. “I mean, exactly. You don’t like to fight. If everyone was like you, then none of this would have happened.” Burned into his brain was the image of Ashnard mounting the stone platform. “Tellius would be for the better.”

Mist leaned back and blinked owlishly. “I— I guess so.”

“And, Mist, know that you are your own person.” Releasing a breath that he had been holding for a long time, Soren’s chest rattled. “Family is very important. I’m… I am honored that you have accepted me into yours. But even without the boon of being Ike’s sister, you would be loved by all.”

Even without Ike, Soren hoped he could have grown to give a child like Mist that chance.

As Soren rambled on as if his life depended on it, he watched as Mist’s small mouth came to a close. By the time he was finished making a right fool of himself, she looked as serene as if blessed with a Galdr of Rebirth.

“About Ike. That was gonna be my question,” Mist said softly. “Why you were acting different recently. But I think I know the answer.”

 _Acting better_ , Soren read between the lines. Before he could deny the claim like a heretic, Mist added, “I think I always knew.”

“...I suppose you did,” Soren gave a measured response. His shoulders tensed as a cloud above passed and more sunlight graced them.

She nodded, so minutely as to miss it. But Soren never would. “Who started it?”

“Ike, technically.” It had always been in the background, really, its own creature that followed them around. Everyone could see it creeping up on them but Ike and Soren themselves. So, though his tongue was leaden, he found in his heart the desire to tell Mist all. “He asked me to stay with him after a party. Just… stay.”

“I wondered where you guys were that one time,” the girl huffed, though a good-natured smile still held up the apples of her cheeks.

With that, she perched her hands on her hips and walked forward. Soren had no choice but to follow.

“Good,” she murmured to no one and about nothing in particular. “Good.”

Soren watched as the dappled light grew larger.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He nodded, as stiff as the stone walls.

When she turned to him, Mist’s face was grave yet warmly, genuinely curious. “What makes you like my brother so much?”

Pressing the tome to his chest with such a strength caused Soren to feel as if the poppy pressed inside was growing into his very ribs. His face cycled between several shades of porcelain and rose as his mouth hung open like a wound.

“I don’t think I feel comfortable telling you that,” he finally decided on with a pang of guilt. Mist's face formed a puerile pout until he added, “Yet. When you’re older, I’ll try.”

Not even he knew the full truth of Gallia and why Ike had not remembered—not that it mattered. At least Mist shared Ike’s high opinion of the laguz—not that it explained how she would deal with a Branded.

Soren’s eyes widened as Mist nodded without incident. “Okay. That’s enough for me.”

“...Okay.” The stone cracked open as Soren nodded, too.

Their last conversation had carried the odd pair the rest of of the way through the trail. Soren stepped out into the open and blinked at the naked blue sky above with bewilderment. He had assumed the pounding in his ears was divine vengeance or his heart threatening to burst out of every orifice, but they just faced the main fountain.

Soren watched the falling water as he waited for the half-hearted parting to come—sometimes barely a mumble, rarely a wave, mostly a silent retirement. Even if the other party had initiated the conversation, they all left disappointed, for Soren sniffed out what they truly wanted and refused to give it. He had only given himself to Ike.

But it never came. Mist was not in want of anything, not truly.

After turning to Soren, she pointed to the fruit trees that lined the main square. “You wanna know what else you can use your wind magic for?”

“I think I know,” Soren smiled.

 

That was how they curled up among the roots of a tree, surrounded by their treasure trove. A glut of bright red apples guarded them from the imaginary foes in the fairy tales Mist currently relayed.

Mist had watched Soren’s airy whips had plucked the apples from the very tops of the trees where no one could see. When that did not prove enough, he blew gusts to shake the leaves and expose the fruits in the nooks and crannies that not even the servants would notice. Bruises bloomed on the ones that Mist did not catch, but she and Soren just ate around them.

No one had said the apples were off-limits, but less people would be upset this way. If someone dare question Mist about her collection, she would simply share.

If Soren did not stare them to death first.

“Need a basket?”

Both looked up from Mist’s retellings at the same time. Mist’s wicker basket in hand, Ike approached them using the stone main path.

“Big brother!” Mist’s laugh floated across the Gardens. “I thought you were in a meeting!”

“Yeah, and when I got out, I saw you two doing… _this_ from the hall.” Even at a distance, Mist saw Ike’s face scrunch up in befuddled amusement. “I thought I’d grab this old thing from your room before joining you.”

“Thinking? Now, there’s a first.”

Mist turned to Soren for the first time since Ike arrived, and her eyes went wide. She had observed this phenomenon before, but never this close. Soren’s shoulders slumped, and the tension drained from his brow. He tossed Ike one of the apples like it was the easiest thing in all of Tellius. When Ike laughed, Soren’s whole body melted like liquid gold.

She did not even hear her brother's reply.

With a smile that could rival the sun, Mist mumbled to herself, “More than enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> i fancied up the gardens a bit from the battle with ashnard. with a castle as big as that, i was picturing versailles-level gardens. come on, crimea. i also apologize for the misuse of wind magic, but mist is holding a basket of apples in her path of radiance artwork, which gave me the idea.
> 
> that's all! thank you for reading! comments/kudos are always appreciated.


End file.
